Tipsy
by foreverunderwater
Summary: The 100 are all living at camp Jaha. The Mount weather situation is resolved, Lincoln is back, and there is a power struggle between the 100 and camp Jaha. The 100 decided to blow off a little steam with a bonfire and some moonshine. Abby finds out and gets mad. drunk!clarke and tipsy!bellamy. Octavia/Lincoln mentioned. M for chapter 2 which I'm not done with yet.


Clark was looking at the spectacular spectacle in front of her. It had been a week since the rescue from mount weather, and all of the 100 were at camp Jaha. It wasn't the greatest of places to be, what with the tension and the power struggles, but they were all safe. They were sort of operating as a separate entity from camp Jaha, ignoring orders unless it came from Clarke or Bellamy, which seemed to only make Abby and her council more determined to take over the rule.

Monty had been working on a new batch of moonshine. It had taken longer than usual, what with the constant "well intended" presence of guards or other higher-up's. What they refused to understand was that the 100 didn't need their help; they had survived. They weren't kids anymore, and it felt patronizing and demeaning to be treated as such. If anything, the 100 should be the ones helping _them_ out.

The 100 had set up a bonfire in a slightly secluded spot on camp. This night was a well deserved respite from the shit that had been going on. People were laughing and dancing, they were all happy. Their smiles were as big and genuine as she'd ever seen them.

"You can join if you want princess" a low voice from behind said. Neither she nor Bellamy had taken part in the drinking before, due to the fact that some people had to stay sober, in case of a grounder attack or some other emergency. She hadn't even thought twice about her abstention tonight, but apparently he had, as Bellamy was holding two cups of the moonshine.

"I probably shouldn't someone should-" she started.

"Should what? Be on the lookout? That's what the damn guards are for." He cocked his head to the side "Thought you said you could be fun." His smile showed challenge as he handed her one of the cups, and she took it, feeling the tension already easing off her shoulders when their hands momentarily brushed.

An hour later she was properly drunk, and was singing some song that, although slurred, sounded like the most beautiful thing Bellamy had ever heard. He couldn't stop looking at her, the fire making her seem fantastical and alive, god she was so alive. He tore his eyes away from her and looked in his cup. There was still about half left, but he wasn't all that sure he should have it.

Although he had told Clarke that they were safe to have fun and drink, he couldn't shake the suspicion that maybe they weren't. He didn't trust Abby or her horde of guards, and the fact that Abby barely listened to her own daughter made him even more concerned. But still, Clarke deserved this. After the whole thing with Finn having a psychotic breakdown and Lincoln needing to be locked up until he got through withdrawals, she had pretty much worn herself ragged.

It was nice to see Octavia smiling too. He had helped her sneak out Lincoln (which was actually extremely difficult, due to the fact that camp Jaha was in a worried panic about any grounder, especially one who seemed rabid, so he was put under scrutinus guard). He was doing much better, but Bellamy was happy that he had agreed with him about keeping handcuffs on and not drinking anything. He seemed content just to sit near Octavia.

Bellamy turned his attention back to Clark, but she was turned away, and her cup was on the ground. He was instantly up to see if she needed any help, but as he followed her eyesight he locked eyes with an extremely pissed off chancellor Abby. Her face was scrunched up so tight and her eyes were searing. She looked ready to explode.

Clarke got up and walked (stumbled) toward her mother. "Hey mom whhatre you doing here?" Although Bellamy instantly recognized this as a potentially very bad situation, he couldn't help but notice just how adorable his princess was when her speech was a little slurred. However, he shook his head, and got up, because this was a conversation that Clarke shouldn't have to deal with on her own. Let alone, drunk.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Abby shouted. "What do you think you are all doing?!"

"We were just havin some fun mom." Clarke tried to cross her arms and look formidable, but she was lacking some of her solid personality at the moment. She tried to keep a straight face, but she just felt so good, so happy.

"Fun? Clarke you are all minors! Where did you even get this stuff? It smells really stro-" she paused for a moment and her face seemed to contort into something Bellamy was sure he'd have nightmares of "What is that grounder doing out!"

"Abby" Bellamy said calmly, finally stepping in, because although watching Clarke trying to act tough while intoxicated was something he thought he could do for hours, it had gotten serious. "He's in handcuffs, and sober. I trust him."

"You can't just make that decision! He's unstable. He's going to have an episode and injure who ever is closest, and as chancellor, I cannot take that risk!"

"Look at him. My sister is the closest person to him. Do you think that if it was unsafe I would let him be here?"

"You are not in-charge, you're just kids. Clarke is only 17, and what are you, 22? I am sure you did an excellent job all circumstances considered, but we're back, and you don't have to do this anymore." Abby glared at Bellamy, and he glared back. It was the same argument they had had for weeks. He was about to say something when Clarke pitched in, suddenly seemingly sober and passionately furious in a way that made Bellamy feel frightened, and to be completely honest, really turned on.

"You don't know anything mom. You don't know what we've been through. You don't know how we've changed. We stopped being kids the second you sent us here to die."

"Clarke… we" Abby's face softened in pain.

"No, don't say you didn't. We were expendable. You didn't know if we'd survive the travel, let alone the atmosphere. You sent us down with nothing. A bunch of delinquent kids sent to their deaths. We've fought battles, we've killed, we've died, we've built walls, a camp. We were doing what we could with what we had. You don't know anything about this place or how to survive it, but we do. It's not only insulting that you're suggesting we should just live under you're rule now, but it's ignorant to think that you know better because you're 'adults' We could help you." Abby was silent, eyes bugging at her daughter's outburst. "Now if you don't mind, we're having fun for the first time in a really long time. Please let us be. We deserve at least that." Clarke stared into her mother's eyes for a second longer, grabbed Bellamy's arm, and then pivoted, to go back to her place around the fire. Bellamy wasn't moving. She turned back around and looked him in the eyes

"Let's go have fun before it's too late." She gave a sultry smile that caused Bellamy's muscles to tighten. He was about to follow when Abby seethed:

"You keep your hands off my daughter and shut down this party right now, or I'll call the guards and-" Clarke pulled Bellamy down and kissed him. It was a proper, sloppy kiss, one that honestly made her knees weak, and his head spin, but that might have been the alcohol. They stood there like that a while, neither of them wanting the moment to end.

Abby cleared her throat, and the sound jolted them both, and they pulled apart, and looked at their surroundings. Not only was Abby staring at them, but the 100 were too. All of them. Every last one of them. Some faces were shocked, some were happy, Finn looked sad, and then there was Octavia, who looked down-right smug.

"Hmm." Clarke sighed. She had only just realized exactly how drunk she was. Yes, she had been imagining telling off her mother and jumping Bellamy for weeks, but thoughts and actions were two different things. She made the decision to go to bed after taking another look at Bellamy and having to force herself to not to kiss his beautiful, gorgeous, godlike… everything. Wait what was she going to do? Bed. Bed. Bedlamy. Hmmmm. She turned and focused all her attention on walking, because damn if she was going to stumble and fall, it would be somewhere where _he_ wasn't.


End file.
